Ashes To Dust
by Cryssy-miu
Summary: The souls of the Underworld have returned for their unfinished business, but Peter Pan isn't sure if he will ever find peace in this new world. And Rumplestiltskin isn't sure if he will either. R&R, my take on "Souls Of The Departed."


(Slight AU, set where Rumple doesn't have magic-basically before the bullshit "I'm the Dark One again" happened again. I wrote this before Swan Song so it doesn't directly follow the canon path of it. I'm tired of seeing such a lack of Pan stuff where it's actually in the canon verse of him being Rumple's father. It's as sad as the lack of Grandpastiltskin. D: So here is a lot of unresolved father and son angst and a deeper look into Pan and the change Robbie teased about. This may be a two shot, but it's likely a one-shot. The next chapter is Pan and Henry. C:

Mild warning: Corporeal punishment on the one that deserves it the most.)

* * *

So it had come to this. Father, son, standing face to face in an old mansion half destroyed by time and curses. The once confident, smug teenager that stood before him now looked as lost as any of the boys on his own island.

The dead had been freely roaming Storybrooke and Rumple tried in vain to find his son. Among the disgruntled spirits roaming the streets Rumple hadn't been able to find Bae. If he really was here he wouldn't have to look hard for him. He'd feel his boy's fist in his jaw before he even saw him or heard him curse. He didn't have to search hard to find the other frayed thread to his bloodline, standing there stupidly in the middle of the street, tattered and surprisingly quiet as he tried to gather his bearings. He looked about as threatening as a declawed kitten, but if there was one thing his father had taught him it was not to underestimate him.

Pan's curls were matted against his forehead from the rain. He was dishevelled, eyes drooping and haunted. Understandably, Rumple didn't have much sympathy for the boy. He had brought this all on himself after all. Two years dead, however... That was enough punishment for anyone. He moved to the front door and double checked the lock to make sure the house was secure. Of course when it really came down to it, both were devoid of magic, and the most dangerous thing the old man had to fend off magical attacks was a gun. There was nothing he could really do to protect either of them.

"Do you want a beverage?" It was such an absurd thing to ask your psychotic kid father after raising from the dead, but the boy was shivering. And they could either talk about that or the literal hell that was breaking loose in their town. "I have tea. Or..." He smirked. "Hot chocolate, if it would appeal to your child taste buds more."

"Chocolate," Pan answered quietly and scowled when he knew his son was mocking him. He backed up into his son's large arm chair for warmth and comfort. "Even though...it's so rich I might throw up. Turns out resurrecting from the dead isn't easy on the stomach."

"Ah it isn't? Never would have thought." Rumple gazed out the window. The skies were still dark, the streets were still full of rubble and debris and it was as much as a horror show now as it was before. But Rumple had made sure Belle and Henry were both safe, and that's what mattered most to him.

He turned back to look at his father. The boy was slightly hunched, tired and almost dazed looking. He was annoyed at the stab of sympathy he felt. Why should he care what Pan went through? Though...his father was all he had right now. It was nice to have some company through this nightmare.

"Hungry?" The teen shook his head no, and the kettle dinged. Rumple poured some hot water and mixed in some chocolate. He shook his head at the mug. Chocolate. Nowhere near as strong as what he wanted... He brought the drink out to his father, who took it and narrowed his eyes at it.

"Sure you didn't poison it?" Pan weakly joked.

"That'd be pointless," Rumple said without any trace of teasing. "You're already dead."

Pan felt his anger flicker slightly. "If you want me to leave, just say it. You're the one that pulled me off the streets."

The man wanted to snarl a yes, to tell the brat-man to get out and never come back, but that same...annoying child part of him that always yearned for his father to pay any attention to him was far stronger then his resentment. "Right now," he mumbled quietly. "I want you to finish your drink before it gets cold. So just shut up and get sipping."

Pan glanced down at the mug. It was no longer steaming as strongly, and his stomach churned at the idea...but he didn't want to anger his son anymore. So quietly, Peter Pan actually obeyed someone for once.

Rumple enjoyed the quiet, and he sipped his drink peacefully, almost forgetting everything at hand...until...

"Rumple..." Pan began meekly, and Rumple whirled back, jabbing an accusing finger at him.

"Don't!" he snarled. "Don't. Start!"

"Please." Pan begged. "Just let me talk-"

"I don't want to talk about it. I don't believe a word you say." Rumple's eyes practically gleamed with hatred...and ill concealed hurt. "Whatever you say now is just the words of a desperate man—kid-kid-man-that just doesn't want to go back to the hell he belongs in. You're only trying to use me, like you always do."

"No, I'm not!" Pan shook his head. "I don't care if I go back to the Underworld. I know...it's what I deserve. But before I do, I just...I need you to know... I was wrong. I know that now." Pan brushed his matted curls out of his eyes and looked down as his son scoffed. "I should have known that years ago and it would have prevented this whole mess, I know!" he snapped. "I know that's what you want to say."

Rumple sat back against his chair and sipped his own cup of cocoa, screwing up his face. It was far too sweet for him. "I could rub it in your face but it would be hypocritical. After all, I'm almost a mirror image of what you were now. The same damn twisted reflection. In the end we both lusted for power and it was our undoing." Suddenly, his tone became more severe. "But you did even worse then that."

The man stood over the boy, an accusing finger pointing. "You never even tried to come back to me. You never cared enough to visit me except for when it was more convenient to you. Or to taunt me, dangle my own son in front of me like a toy and try to take him away from me. Try to take away all I have!"

Pan fell quiet and the look of shame on the boy's face only infuriated him more. He didn't even have any defence, because he knew. "I..." He became really quiet. "I wanted to see him." Rumple stepped so abruptly toward him that Pan half expected a slap across the face.

"That's bull. You never came to visit him. You never came to visit me. You just left me, discarded me like I was trash—like I meant nothing to you! You never cared about my son and you never cared about me!"

"Yes I did!" Pan exclaimed. "I did! I just...I wasn't meant to be a father! I knew you were better off without me, with the spinsters. I wasn't ready to accept the responsibility of being a father."

Rumple gave a hard laugh. "Oh, and you're here now because you finally are? You're a little too late for that, _Papa!_ " he spit icily. "I don't need a father now, I needed one then! And the only reason you're in my house now is because I don't trust you out there alone with what you might do. I don't trust you with my wife or Henry."

Pan looked stricken, but the worst thing was that he had no defense to convince his son otherwise. Still, he felt his anger flare up. It was about the only way he knew to deal with sadness: convert it. "What would I have to gain from that? If I wanted to hurt any of you I would have done it already, with or without my magic! That's not what I want! Why can't you just try to believe me?"

"Indeed, why can't I!" Rumple barked with a harsh laugh. "Well let's look at this objectively. I don't think we have the time to list all of your sins—but if it makes you feel any better, mine is likely a mile longer. Why don't we come up on a focal point right now? How about the fact that instead of approaching your family for help you ripped us into your little land of horrors? You tormented my son, my wife, your great grandson, and me—although that doesn't really matter to you, does it?" Rumple said coldly.

Pan's fists clenched along with his teeth.

"You never even spoke to me. Ever. I would have known you were living on borrowed time if you had just told me! But no, you had to do things your way, no matter who you hurt. Make a stupid game out of it."

Pan laughed harshly. "Of course, because the child I willingly gave up would have been so happy to help me. Please. You'd rather watch me crumble to ashes _yourself."_

Rumple's eyes glowed dangerously. "You don't know me, _Father,"_ he hissed. "Maybe family means more to me then it ever did to you. You could have avoided all of this— _all of it,_ if you had just asked for help! For god's sake you fool, you could have avoided your own death! You could have avoided an early banishment to the cold realm of the afterlife if you had just SPOKE UP!"

"Don't lie to me!" Pan snarled. "If there was any other way, any other way, I would have found it! You think I wanted to go through all that to retain my youth? Do the..." His eyes flickered to something of shame as his thoughts briefly went to Henry, the child he never really wanted to kill. "Do the—things-I had to do to stay alive?"

"As far as I'm concerned you didn't care what you had to do. You didn't care who you had to hurt. You would have taken my life if it meant you could forever live yours." Pan's breath hitched slightly but he didn't refute this. It pained Rumple that he didn't, and he hoped it was because the shock was too great on the boy. "I don't matter to you."

Pan's fists clenched. "That's not true!" he yelled. "Because if that were true, Baelfire wouldn't matter to you!" He knew immediately that was the wrong thing to say as the fire lit in his son's eyes, but Peter Pan was not one to back down. "You did the exact same thing! You abandoned him! And if that wasn't bad enough, all you've done since you reunited was break promises after promises! You couldn't even honor the ones you made on his death! I was watching, you know! You can't claim to be more morally superior then me when you yourself-"

Suddenly Pan found himself on the ground. His vision was blurry, his head was ringing...and his eye was throbbing. He barely glanced up and saw his son already standing with a balled up fist. And he looked almost as shocked, like he couldn't even comprehend he had managed to strike his father of all people, without magic.

But the shock wore off. Rumple stood over the downed boy, snarling. "I'M AT LEAST TRYING TO ATONE FOR MY WRONG DOINGS! I'M USING THIS SECOND CHANCE TO BE BETTER! AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! You just want to downplay your own sins by reminding me what a terrible person I am! Classic, father!"

Pan didn't respond, and he didn't get up.

"Say something Pan!" Rumple shouted back, feeling slightly unnerved by the strange silence. "Fight me! Say something you monster! Why aren't you defending yourself?!"

"What's there to defend?" Pan finally asked. He raised his head. One of his eyes were nearly swollen shut, black and painful looking, but he didn't even seem to feel it. His eyes were hollow looking, more defeated then he had ever felt. The smug teenager everyone knew him as...was completely drained of confidence.

Rumple stared, panting. His fists were still clenched and tears rimmed his eyes.

"Punch me," Pan said quietly. "Kick me. Push me. Do everything I did to you and worse. Tear me apart and throw me right back in the portal." He lowered until he was laying on the ground. "It's no less then I deserve." He was so tired.

Rumple was baffled. He didn't know what to say. This was such a different version of Pan then he was used to. But he could do it. He could so easily kick him again, punch him...inflict all the pain on the wretch that he ever did to him. ...And yet he couldn't.

Slowly, exhausted, Rumple lowered himself in his arm chair, and buried his face in his hands. A silence fell among the house.

* * *

It felt like hours had passed, but Rumple had been watching the clock closely. And it had only been just shy of fifteen minutes. All was silent other then the ticking and hum of the fridge. Neither he and Pan had made a sound, and in fact, the boy stayed on the floor. Rumple had half expected it to be one of the wretch's tricks...but he hadn't moved an inch. His swollen eye was shut as he sat there, slumped.

Rumple regarded him with cold, unforgiving eyes...but he found the anger in him had exhausted itself after that swing. If he were to hit him anymore...it would be like kicking a wounded puppy. One that refused to fight back. "Here," the man said quietly after a moment, offering his hand to his father. Pan, without lifting his head, reached up.

Rumple's eyes maintained their dagger glare, but he pulled his father up gently and sighed as he sat back down again.

"That punch wasn't enough," Pan said, his voice now incredibly monotone and almost numb. His eye was swollen and purple and it was only now that Rumple felt a hollow sting of guilt in his heart rather then just his hand. "I deserve more."

"Oh yes, you do," the man said coolly "I won't refute that, but I'm also not going to beat the daylights out of you. Even if it is what you deserve. And it is what you deserve." The man surveyed the pathetic husk of the boy in front of him and scowled.

Pan gazed at his son through his black swollen eye and shrugged listlessly. "So what do you suggest we do? I need to pay for my sins some way, and for some reason you refuse to kick me like a dog, and like the way I did you..." He'd honestly feel better if his son were to beat the crap out of him.

Rumple shut his eyes at the remembrance. "I won't...do that."

"So what then?" The boy truly didn't look like he cared what it was. "Send me back to the Underworld? We both know I'll be dragged back there eventually, why not cut the visit short?"

"Just..." Rumple growled. "Shut up for a moment... You tortured your family, and you threatened my son and my wife. The list could go on, we both know that, but I feel like that should be the focus. There's no changing everything you've done." His eyes grew colder still. "There's no forgiving it either." Pan's jaw set tightly.

Rumple sat back against the chair and folded his hands in his lap, pensively. He couldn't deny that he enjoyed this new control he had over his father, a control he always longed to have. Even as the Dark One with everyone under his power he never stopped being under his father's thumb. It was interesting to turn the tables for once. "Tell me Father, what would you have done to me if I did everything that you have?" He had to stop himself when he remembered...that he _had done everything his father had._

Perhaps Pan sensed this, because instead of firing the same right back at Rumple he had the decency to keep quiet rather then correct him. "What would I have done? Well I suppose that's hard to say. I wouldn't have let you get that far first of all. Despite what a terrible father I was, I did pride you on being a well-mannered child." The boy's expression became a grim smirk. "I'd have hauled you off with my belt before you could even bli..." Suddenly, his eyes snapped wide open in realization, repulsion, and a small trace of fear. Pan balked at the initial thought and backed up immediately.

Rumple however remained in the chair, arms crossed over his chest as he gave a approving nod, and the glint in his eyes darkened. "That sounds fair."

"Oh I see," Pan said coldly, his eyes glinting with steely anger. "You want to humiliate me. Bruise my pride even more then you just did my eye." Suddenly, his expression softened, ugly self loathing curling around his heart. "And," he sighed. "Who am I to deny that it's what I deserve? Fine. If hurting me is the only thing that will make you feel better then do it. Attack me, beat me, rip me apart—to your heart's content. I would rather it be me that hurts instead of you for once."

Rumple's eyelids prickled but he forced back the tears. They wouldn't help anything right now, and instead...he reached out. For the first time in longer then he could remember, he touched his father. A hand settled on Pan's. Then, another. It had been eons since a touch exchanged between them...was not meant to harm. And it must have been so foreign to Pan as well since he almost jerked away from it.

"Papa."

The boy inhaled so sharply he felt his chest hurt. Slowly, he looked at his son.

"If we're to...have any sort of relationship, to try and salvage what we can, you can't be like this. It's..." Rumple gave a broken laugh. "I don't even know what to do with this, I've never seen you like this before. I've never seen you so...beaten up over being _wrong."_

Pan shrugged listlessly. "A couple years in hell does wonders for some self reflecting, laddie."

Rumple shook his head. "We can't move forward if you're wallowing in your own self pity. I had a lifetime to learn that. I don't want to beat you up, I don't want to rip you apart. I don't want you to hurt. I don't want either of us to hurt anymore. You can't let your guilt swallow you whole."

Pan refused to looked at him, eyes cast down to the floor. He chewed on his lip and willed himself to stay strong and not collapse under the weight of his own self hatred.

After a moment, Rumple started to sip his tea. "I'll leave it all up to you. It's whatever you want to do. You are technically an adult after all, you should at least get the choice." His father glared daggers at him. How could he leave him with such a humiliating and tough decision?

"Well," Pan finally mumbled, almost petulantly. "We can't lie that this isn't something I deserve. I dare say boy, my wickedness has clearly rubbed off on you. Making me choose my own whipping? How diabolical." He crossed his arms. "Are you sure you're not too spindly to do the job?" he asked, almost hopefully. "I'd think it would be something you're too cowardly to attempt."

The man almost smirked. "The old Rumplestiltskin would have been, yes. He was a coward, he feared you. He'd never have the nerve. Unfortunately for you however, this one does." He suddenly grabbed the teenager by the arm and jerked the surprised boy towards him.

"This is degrading! I'm the parent, not the other way around!" Pan hissed as he suddenly found himself face down on his son's bony lap. His slightly pale cheeks flushed in anger. "This is juvenile!"

"Yes well, so are you." Rumple stared down at the boy across his lap. He never thought they'd both be in this position, and if he ever did, he at least expected the teen to be making more of a fuss at something so indignifying, but Pan wasn't cursing as much as he thought he would be. He had gripped his son's pants and lay there, tense. Rumple hesitated before resolutely slipping off his belt.

The first crack didn't elect much of a reaction from Pan other then a slight grimace, but he had been through much worse over these hundreds of years. He breathed in. "Is this going to...make you forgive me?"

"No." Rumple's voice sliced through him like a knife. "Not even close. You think one talk is going to undo three hundred years worth of damage?" the man snapped. "Nice try Papa." He could feel the body deflate across his knees and suddenly, anger sparked. "No," he growled and jerked the leather down again. "You don't get to be sad. You don't have the right to be. Do you honestly think you deserve forgiveness that easily? Do you really think with all the pain you've caused—to me, to my son, to Henry—all the sins you've ever committed, and you're the one that gets to feel bad?"

Pan ground his teeth together more from the words then the stinging swats. "I hate myself enough, do you just want to hammer the nail in more? Fine, let me have it. Get it all off your chest."

"Oh I will." The belt slashed down again, harder on the boy's backside and this time he let out a gasp. "You tried to kill my son. Compared to that, abandoning me is nearly forgiveable. But you tried to _kill my son."_

Pan shook his head in denial and grit his teeth when he felt another hard swat. He refused to believe it. The memories flashed in his head, ugly and too clear to ignore.

 _"You both look so adorable... It's hard to decide who to kill first."_

"No!" Pan shouted. His grandson. His own blood. "No! NO!" He winced painfully and jolted at another fierce smack, but the pain of the truth was what was the hardest to bear. "I wasn't...I...I wasn't really going to do it!"

"Yes you were!" Rumple snarled. "I saw you! I stopped you! You didn't care—you didn't even bat an _eye_ at the idea."

"No!" Pan shouted louder, his chest feeling like it was ready to burst. He could hardly feel the pain of the belt over the agony burning from deep within his soul. "I...I was just angry!"

"For what?!"

"I was ANGRY THAT YOU LOVED THEM AND NOT ME!" he finally screamed, tears prickling at his eyelids. The sting of the belt pushed one down his cheek. He struggled to keep the rest back and now started to desperately struggle. "Ah-!" The pain began to break through past the words and his legs started to kick out.

"And whose fault was that?" Rumple yelled back. "Do you honestly think you deserved my love after everything you put me through? Abandonment—abuse— _torture..._ Do you really think you were worthy of my love? Do you think you were worthy of ANYONE'S love?" His rising anger brought the belt down again with a swift, searing smack, and it was enough to make Pan choke back a sob. The pain grew, and his tolerance did not. He had never felt so helpless in all his life. His desperation made him start struggling, but it was no use. He had been powerless for nearly two years. He wasn't strong enough to get away.

"No! I...I never meant to-"

"Don't give me that! You meant to, you meant to do everything that you did! It didn't matter what you had to do, who you had to hurt-even if it was the people you were supposed to love and protect! Bae, me, Henry-!"

"No, no—I didn't _want_ to hurt Henry! I just...wanted to survive!" The teen felt his lip threatening to tremble. Damn it he would not cry. He wasn't some sniffling five year old—he was Peter Pan for God's sake! Peter Pan didn't cry for any reason. "I wasn't ready to say good-bye to my youth! There—was no other way!"

"There was another way! There's always another way!" Now Rumple could feel himself starting to break. A tear slipped down his cheek. "You never bothered to check for any alternatives! You never...cared! You never cared about...your family."

The word struck deeper into Pan as he was forced to remember everything he had ever done to his own relations, and forced to suffer under the weight of his own guilt and the agony of the worsening spanking. He fell limp and just trembled.

"It all..." Rumple barely realized that he was crying himself. "It never mattered to you...none of us ever mattered to you." He hung his head and the belt fell to the floor in a heap. For three long minutes father and son just stayed in that position, silent. Pan's head was still buried into his son's knee, and a hand clenched the man's pants in pain. Rumple's head was still down, but finally, he spoke.

"I have always loved you, you stupid fool..." He mumbled in resignation. Pan's breathing seemed to have stopped. "I never stopped. No matter how hard I tried to hate you..." His lips wobbled. "You were...still my Papa."

There was silence from Pan for a moment...but then Rumple heard it just as soon as he felt his lap shake. Repressed, deep sobs, that muffled into the boy's tattered sleeves as he wept, first quietly and then louder.

Rumple was stunned. He had not seen his father cry...in over 300 years. Pan had always been a stoic form, and when he felt the approach of tears he'd push them back until he couldn't feel them. But here pressed against his son, he had no choice but to let them go. The spanking had pulled the first round out of him, and now he had no time to rebuild his walls to fight off the next onslaught. of Eons of pent up tears poured out. Every emotion melted together at once.

Pain, self loathing, anger, crushing guilt, relief...and terror. He had no one to cry to in the depths of darkness of the Underworld, left isolated with his own agony and terror of the unknown around him, his last memories being stabbed by his own son...and the soft kiss to his forehead with no way to ever ask what it meant.

Rumple gently lifted the weeping mess off his knees, and for the first time in centuries, he took his father into his arms. And he did it as easily as he would have so long ago. "Papa, shhhh..." He smoothed his hair and rubbed circles on his back. "Shhh..."

"I..." Pan inhaled a deep sobbing breath. "I was...so scared!" Rumple looked down at him as the boy sobbed again. "I was so...alone! I was so...lost!" He relived it all in that moment, the crippling terror, every waking moment in the literal hell he endured. Screams that no one would ever hear. "It was nothing but darkness and isolation. But I...could still see you," he choked. "I could still see...into the outside world! And I was forced to watch it all...never able to intervene! I could do no-nothing when...Bae died, but I was never able to look away."

Rumple sat rigid holding the boy, just baffled by what he heard. He could do nothing but helplessly stroke his father's hair.

"And eventually...I lost the sense of my own self and the world around me," he gasped out. "The longer you stay in the dark fog, the more you lose...yourself! Your memories, the life...you lived before. All that you're left with...is your own overwhelming guilt...but you don't even remember why you feel it. Y-you don't know the people you're watching anymore."

Rumple was horrified and speechless. His grip tightened on Pan, holding the sobbing form tighter to him. He couldn't even imagine what his father was forced to go through these past two years. The vault he returned to after he died was slightly different. He was trapped in the darkness and he listened to the whispers of the evil around him, of the previous Dark Ones. He wasn't there long ago to see the things that Pan had seen.

"It...it's alright now," was all Rumple was able to say. He held his father in a half cradled position, carding fingers through his hair. "You're safe now. You don't have to go back..."

"But I do!" Pan cried desperately, tearing at his son's shirt in fear. He trembled, eyes blank with terror. "You know I do!"

Rumple paused, eyes wide. That was true... They didn't know how long this portal would be open, but one thing they did know was that it couldn't stay open. ...And what would happen to the souls that came from it? He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to save his father.

"I don't want to be alone again..." Pan's grip tightened to the point where it was almost painful for Rumple. "I'm not ready to say good-bye to you again."

Rumple found himself actually considering going with him. After all, what did he have to live for now? Belle had finally come to her senses about him, he had lost his son. The only person that was his shred of light was his grandson, and even then...Henry had so much family. If he wasn't around it would hardly make a difference. They didn't spend much time together to begin with. Objectively, there was no reason why he should stay. At least this way...he would always have someone and Pan didn't have to suffer alone.

"It's going to be okay," was what he said instead. His father was too broken up to even suggest this idea to him. "I promise. Let's just...focus on right now, okay? We've both been through a lot. I'll put you down to rest." Pan's tear stained face whipped up in fear at his son's poor choice of wording. "Ah—I mean, I'll put you to bed." He wiped the teen's face.

His father looked more like a child then ever with the red puffy face and dark scowl. "I'm the father. I'm the one that's supposed to be putting you to bed."

"Ah take what kindness is given to you, old man," Rumple teased. "Besides, when's the last time anyone ever tucked you in?"

"Never," Pan practically whined. "Because Peter Pan can take care of himself. Ah well, there was that one bout of food poisoning and Felix and Tootles took care of me that evening."

"Seems like you're a bit overdue then." Rumple stood with the heavy teenager in his arms, and Pan was too emotionally and physically drained to fight him. His father rested his head on his son's chest and winced harshly.

"Gods...my entire backside feels like I've sat straight in a patch of Dreamshade." The boy shuddered and wiggled around in his son's arms to try and ignore the burning in his rear and get in a more comfortable position. As they neared the bedroom his scowl darkened. "I'm not tired."

Rumple paused walking to laugh. "Gods...even after all these years, you're still so difficult." He tightened his grip on his father. "At least your scrawny bratty self makes it easier to carry you rather then the fat lug of a man you were." He smirked when he felt the form in his arms stiffen.

"Watch it Laddie, I'm not entirely incapacitated..." Pan mumbled darkly. It was only when he was laid stomach down on the bed that the exhaustion really seemed to hit him. He felt his eyelids drooping. His eyes started to shut. "I want a back rub..."

"What?" Rumple blurted as he settled down next to his father, tired himself. "You're pathetic." But it was hard not to feel sympathy when he looked down at the tired, beaten down teen that looked more like an injured puppy then anything. And that was even more annoying. He sighed as he started to gently rub his father's back. The action lulled them both into a calm state.

"What do we do now?" Pan mumbled, barely awake. Rumple lowered so he was laying right beside his father. He folded his hands over his chest. He was too tired to think clearly, and trying to figure out how they were going to survive tomorrow required far too much work. "Right now...we sleep. We'll eat. And then we'll figure the rest out in the morning..."

Father and son lay there in the quiet tranquillity, drifting off. Pan shifted notably closer to his son and Rumple didn't seem to mind it and didn't shift away. He craved the warmth and nostalgic contact as much as Pan and the two fell asleep, like they had so many times before, long ago.


End file.
